


Bachelorettes for St. Mungo’s

by Minervas_Revenge



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 00:16:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16821316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minervas_Revenge/pseuds/Minervas_Revenge
Summary: Hermione participates in a bachelorette auction for charity.





	Bachelorettes for St. Mungo’s

_“This is the last time I volunteer to help with a fundraiser,”_ Hermione thought darkly.

She stood on a little stage in the Leaky Cauldron wearing her nicest dress robes. Above her floated an oversized banner that read “Bachelorettes for St. Mungo’s” and beside her, emceeing the auction, was George Weasley. Wizards, young and old, were packed into the pub, waiting for the witches of their choice to be called to the stage.

“Six hundred … Six-fifty … Seven hundred Galleons!”

Hermione’s smile trembled. Bidding to win her company for twelve hours had been going back and forth between Cormac McLaggen and Draco Malfoy. The brunette witch exchanged an anxious look with Harry, the last remaining friendly face in the crowd. It was lucky that Ron had already left with Lavender because there was no telling what trouble he’d get into on Hermione’s account. He’d been an awful boyfriend but remained a protective git.

There had been a shocking amount of early bidders and Hermione’s price went up right quick. It made her head spin, trying to follow whom was bidding. However, once the Galleons reached five-hundred, only Cormac and Draco continued. It was obvious that Draco was drunk. While she and the blond wizard had formed a tenuous friendship, he was not exactly a confidant. Once Hermione spotted him shooting expectant glares at Harry, Hermione understood that he was simply fanning the old rivalry.

Cormac was in the lead, having bid seven-hundred Galleons and Hermione sincerely hoped it ended there. At least Cormac genuinely wanted her company.

“Eight hundred!” Draco roared above the muttering din, looking very pleased with himself.

Hermione’s insides wilted. She envisioned a night spent holding back Draco’s hair while he was bent over the toilet.

“Eight-hundred Galleons? _Is that all?”_ George deadpanned. He winked at Hermione’s black glance. It was, by far, the highest bid for any witch so far.

“The best friend of Harry Potter! Smartest witch you’ll ever meet… And not bad to look at once you’ve had a few,” George teased. Hermione took a playful swing at George with the scroll in her hand.

“Ow! She’s feisty, too!”

“Eight-fifty!” Cormac hollered, undressing Hermione with his eyes.

Hermione smiled saucily. The auction’s contract was worded to protect her and participants were bound to follow it upon being declared the winner. Cormac wouldn’t be able to lay a finger on her unless she _allowed_ him. 

Hermione noticed Harry moving through the crowd towards Draco. She hoped he didn’t do anything rash.

“Nine-fifty!” Draco yelled.

The pale wizard went paler to find Harry Potter beside him, glaring death. There was a little commotion as Lucius Malfoy stood from a shadowy booth, between Harry and his son. The pub went quiet.

“Fifteen-hundred Galleons,” the older Malfoy announced. It was a bid to eliminate all competition and hushed whispers rippled through the sea of wizards.

Hermione felt all of the blood drain from her face.

“Sold to Lucius Malfoy,” George declared weakly. Apparently, he had run out of funny things to say.

Hermione moved, trance-like, to the edge of the stage, waiting as Lucius pushed Draco through the crowd before him. She caught Harry’s gaze. It was clear that he was torn – probably wondering if he could afford to save Hermione and still win Ginny. Hermione shook her head. She would be fine. The Malfoys were publicly repentant of their involvement in Death Eater activities and there were magical measures put into place for her safety.

For just a moment, Hermione entertained the idea of being alone, _romantically_ , with Lucius Malfoy. It was a startlingly incendiary thought and warmth curled in her stomach.

At work, they exchanged professional courtesies. After all, she was Departmental Head of Spell Damage and he was the major funder of St. Mungo’s. They were both single; Ron was engaged to Lavender and after a quiet divorce, Narcissa, seemingly, disappeared from Britain.

In the past, witches of St Mungo’s infamous Bachelorette Auction had ended up married to the wizards who won them…

Butterflies fluttered through Hermione. Lucius Malfoy had won her obedient company for the next twelve hours and there was no telling what might take place in that time.

When he reached the stage, Hermione held out the contract to him. He met her eyes and she wondered if he knew she was wearing red, lacy knickers because there was heat in his gaze. The butterflies in Hermione’s stomach went into a flurry when he touched the scroll of parchment.

Just like the Bachelorettes who were auctioned before her, the contract became a Portkey to the winner’s home. The noise of the pub fell away and the sensation of Portkey travel enveloped Hermione.

Lucius must have had a hold on his son because Draco arrived at the manor with them. Draco was barely conscious and slumped into a chair when Lucius released him.

“Let me see it,” Lucius said quietly, taking the contract from Hermione’s fingers.

They were in a library or office – Hermione couldn’t see much in the dimly-lit room. Lucius slipped a pair of glasses on and peered at the scroll.

“Shall I help Draco to his room?” Hermione asked, watching Draco nod off.

“That would be fine,” Lucius muttered in reply; he was nose-deep in the contract.

What on earth was he thinking of having her do that he was scrutinizing every word of fine print?

Hermione drew her wand and levitated Draco, situating his arm across her shoulders so that she could guide him through the unfamiliar house. He nuzzled her neck and gave a content sigh, stirring inadvertent embers in Hermione’s stomach.

Hermione started to regret her ploy to delay being subject to Lucius’ whim. She cast a hasty guiding spell to direct her towards Draco’s room. The barely-conscious wizard breathed on her neck and hissed slurred attempts at flattery all the way to his room. Hermione stifled giggles as Draco’s compliments became more incoherent.

When Hermione agreed to help with the St. Mungo’s Fundraiser, she had no idea she’d end up in Malfoy Manor, escorting a very drunk Draco to his bedroom. Hermione followed her spell through a labyrinth of dark corridors and up three flights of stairs to a set of double doors, ignoring Draco’s laughable efforts to woo her. Efficient flicks of her wand opened the doors, lit a low fire in the grate and pulled back the bed clothes. It was a simple matter to settle Draco on his bed but she didn’t realize that his wand was drawn until a spell pulled her back to the bedside.

“I didn’ dishmish you,” he slurred, waving a weaving finger at her.

Hermione didn’t fight her grin; he would never remember the uncharacteristic expression on her face. “You didn’t win me, Draco.”

The soused wizard frowned, “But you’re here.” His hands found her arms and gripped them as if daring her to fight him.

“No, Draco!” Hermione gave a squeal as he pulled her down onto the bed and rolled her onto her back. “Draco,” she growled. “Let me up.”

He ignored her and planted sloppy, wet kisses on her neck. Hermione was about to cast something nasty at him but his mouth found her ear and did something that made her entire body tingle. She went from amused to turned-on in a heartbeat. Draco must have heard her gasp because he tongued her ear again. Hermione’s body went soft.

Hot pleasure shot through Hermione and she struggled to remember that she had no desire to be one of Draco’s conquests. And then she remembered that Lucius was waiting for her…

Unless he’d won her to give her to his son! Hermione wrenched her arms free and swung out of the bed. She shot a nasty jinx at Draco that would last a week and then stormed her way back to the library.

By the time she reached the correct room, most of her steam had run out and she felt like a cat rubbed backwards. Hermione was prickly and insecure. And she was sure that she looked like she’d been snogging despite having run her hand over her hair a million times. But then, what would it matter to Lucius if she had?

“Did you buy me for your son?” she asked upon finding Lucius reading in a wing-back chair, before a crackling fire.

She felt his eyes move over her.

“Actually, my aim was to _spare_ you from his company.”

“I see,” Hermione replied, nonplussed. She shifted her weight, irresolute of what to do.

“That contract is bloody stingy,” Lucius announced, gesturing at the furled scroll sitting on the desk. “Do you know that I may not disfigure, scar, burn, maim or decapitate you?”

Hermione huffed. He was teasing her! Unthinkable.

“Come in here and sit,” he ordered gruffly, resuming his perusal of the paper.

Still buzzing with bleary arousal, Hermione sat in the chair beside Lucius. He shot her a curious glance and then went back to the paper in silence.

Completely unsettled, Hermione tried to sit still but she kept remembering the sensations Draco had ignited – they tore through her like the onset of orgasm and she twitched every time the memory replayed.

“Ms. Granger,” Lucius began in that throaty voice of his.

“Yes,” she answered, jumpy with nerves. Damn Draco! She hoped her jinx haunted him long into sobriety.

“I would like you to draw me a bath.”

“I, er, I don’t-” Hermione’s mind simply couldn’t handle the electricity Lucius sparked in her. She went quiet because no argument was sound when your heart wasn’t in it and she wanted nothing more than to run her hands over a naked wizard. It would be illogical to thwart the opportunity – particularly when the wizard in question was Lucius Malfoy.

When he stood, Hermione dutifully followed him. Lucius led her on a path similar to that she’d taken to Draco’s rooms but when he gestured for her to enter a room before him, it appeared as though his bedroom was an entire wing of the manor. The space lit with soft light as she took the few steps down into the sunken room. She had expected Slytherin-inspired décor for some reason but was disappointed; warm, neutral tones adorned the walls and floor. A massive bed occupied a shadowy corner and she tried very hard not to look at it. She needn’t have worried; her attention was stolen by the claw-footed soaking tub that waited for them in front of windows that stretched three stories high. Beyond the windows, Hermione could see a moonlit garden and stars. 

“This is lovely,” she whispered, awed. It was surreal. In a way, it was more surreal than anything she’d seen yet of the wizarding world and she felt as if she’d entered a dream.

“Thank you,” Lucius drawled, moving past her towards the bathtub.

Hermione was amused to watch him strip and leave his clothes in a careless trail like a child that was never told to pick up after himself. Bemused, she stifled a smile and followed him. The enormous splendor of the room fell away as the wizard removed clothes. It was with wonder that she admired Lucius’ broad shoulders. He pulled his under robes over his head and she averted her eyes until he had settled into the steaming water.

He sighed as he sank into it. Hermione waited quietly as he ducked under the water and resurfaced, wiping his face free of droplets.

“Shall I wash your hair..?” Hermione asked, examining the sponges, potions, and combs laid-out so orderly beside the tub. ‘ _House-elf?_ ’ she wondered even though she had seen no hint of one. She sat down on the low stool beside the tub.

“Please,” Lucius answered, sitting up and sluicing his hair onto his back. “Use the mint.”

Hermione rolled up her sleeves and picked up the bottle labeled ‘menta.’ The mint potion had a dark, masculine scent to it that suited Lucius. She idly wondered if there was anything in it to cause entrancement as she lathered her hands and dribbled a little of the concoction onto Lucius’ wet locks. Steam wafted off of his shoulders and Hermione hesitated touching him.

He’d bought her and he had stripped in front of her – he hadn’t asked anything of her that she wasn’t willing to do… Of course, her twelve hours had just started.

Hermione didn’t realize that she was holding her breath until she laced her fingers into his hair and she let out an inadvertent sigh. His silky tresses parted and curled around her hands like they were alive. Hermione was mesmerized as she massaged the soapy potion into Lucius’ hair. For a few minutes, Hermione forgot the particulars of her circumstances. In fact, she was kneading the man’s shoulders when he groaned, disrupting her trance. Hermione plucked away her hands in uncertainty.

“I won’t complain if you continue,” Lucius huskily drawled, flexing his shoulders.

Embarrassment washed through Hermione; was he flirting..? Heady at the idea of such a notorious wizard _flirting_ with her, she picked up a spouted cup and dunked it into the tub, nervously trying not to touch Lucius. She dumped slow cupfuls of water over his hair until the soap was gone. Then, she took a steadying breath and settled her hands on Lucius’ shoulders again. She felt them relax as she began massaging.

Lucius settled deeper into the tub, resting his head on the rim and closing his eyes. Hermione’s caresses followed him into the warm, sudsy water. Her sleeves were getting wet so she stood up and drew off her robes. She was wearing a slip and, as she picked up another potion, she relished her ease of movement in the light garment. When she worked a spicy scented potion into a washcloth and began drawing it down Lucius’ arm, she felt a little vulnerable. The slitted eyes moving over her bare skin felt predatory. 

“Ms. Granger,” the wizard hissed. Wet fingers wrapped tight around her wrist, directing her into the water. Hermione followed, closing her eyes as he brought her in for a kiss. His lips met hers softly but became more demanding and a hand slid into her hair. Hermione lost herself in the man’s mouth. She was so lost that she failed to realize when he pulled her into the bath until she felt wet silk floating around her thighs.

Hermione pulled away, sloshing water and feeling entirely awkward astride a wizard that had once hated her for being Muggle-born. “Wait,” she whispered. “Wait.” She was dizzy with want but unsure of the wizard’s expectations.

Lucius shifted and Hermione swallowed a gasp when she felt evidence of his arousal.

“Is it such a surprise that I want you..?” he asked.

“Yes, actually,” Hermione replied softly.

“You’re a lovely, young witch, and it isn’t often that I have one bound to obey my whim…”

“As long as I’m willing,” she reminded him.

A cat-like smile curled his lips. “As long as you’re willing… I can show you new heights of pleasure, Ms. Granger.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written/published in 2010. 
> 
> The end is a bit abrupt. I wouldn't complain if anyone wanted to continue where I left off... :D


End file.
